


tunnels to gates of white

by lrviolet



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anthology Fic, Drabble Sequence, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5495210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrviolet/pseuds/lrviolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite. It's when love perishes and blooms and settles that we know it exists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tunnels to gates of white

**Author's Note:**

> An anthology fic featuring pairs at different stages of a relationship. I’ve linked each couple with another couple’s story and it conveys a series of events that happen from losing someone, to out meeting strangers, to being friends, to going out on first dates, to the proposal, to weddings and then to starting a family. Something similar to the film _Love, Actually_ , and loosely inspired by a fic done by my friend Hannah. First line of the summary is from the song Saturn by Sleeping At Last. Happy Holidays, everyone!

It’s gotten colder the last years but she’s managed. Tenten’s a fighter after all: survival is innate.

She inserts, without any preliminaries, the key to the knob, unlocking the door to her apartment and she slips out of her shoes upon entering, physically sore from her mission. She decides to have herself some warm coffee afterwards, boiling the water and adding the mix to her empty mug. While waiting for the kettle to sound off, she unloads the giant scroll from behind her back and then untangles her hair buns. Collapses into her shabby little couch in fatigue.

With a lazy arm, she reaches for the untouched mail she’s left two days ago, atop the counter: just bills and other lease notices. One catches her attention though, because it hasn’t been about debts: a heavily laced off-white invite, a wedding soon it announces, two weeks due, and it makes her sigh. She should’ve known.

Her friends are already at their prime, where they want something settling, solid, _permanent_ – Tenten understands and shares the same views; she’s not getting any younger either, and soon enough she’ll be receiving retirement recommendations by the hokage. But what then.

Marriage? Yeah, right.

The kettle withdraws her out of her thoughts too soon, screeching its alarm. Tenten pours about three-fourths the cup, stirs then waits until the warmth becomes tolerable for human contact.

Her eyes wander her home, unresistingly falling on the other side of the room, to shelves, where she keeps most of the gushy energy. Some letters her mother religiously sends every two months now sits with a picture of Team Guy, years before. Rock Lee’s eyebrows aren’t  less thicker, the poster boy for the Spring of Youth, and Guy, her sensei and adamant head of their squad both beam into the camera, squashing Tenten in between though her grin proved unperturbed by this.

Then, like lens of a camera, her focus draws near on the other member. A Hyuuga, the prodigal one whose clan known legendary in the five great nations, sports a smirk that still makes Tenten’s insides churn. In nostalgia, these days, but back then, just pure adolescent admiration turned romance, if she wasn’t too careful.

Perhaps he too will have wanted Tenten to attend his precious cousin’s wedding, in his behalf she supposes, just to warn the in-law not to do anything particularly stupid to dishonor Lady Hinata.

What could’ve been if he were here? Such unavoidable questions he never seems to reply from the other side. Tenten thinks Neji’s what bridged her to the rest of her friends, Rookie Nine in particular, but also the anchor that pulled her away in case the Dynamic Green Duo go overboard. Those days were timeless indeed.

Gently the breeze from her window plays with her cheek, like reminiscently how Neji used to when a strand of hair strays out of place or the bloodstains soils her jawline from a battle she swore to finish. His presence and his fondness, has been a promised she’s never had a chance to see working out till the end.

Tenten considers of getting married, of course, dates and all, but she eventually finds no one quite worth spending an eternity with. Depriving herself of what’s in front of her, mentally picturing her old teammate instead, his quirks, comparing idly that this person’s eyes are not as pure as the Hyuuga’s or his hair isn’t as soft.

In the end, there hasn’t been anyone like Neji at all. She decides, over the coffee and the winter air, that it is not the feeling that is missed, but rather the person behind who’s made one feel it.

Deep down, she too wants to know what it’s like to love and be loved. If only it had been easier.

“I can’t possibly die a virgin now, can I?”

 

 

 

 

That’s just _impossible_.

He’s definitely way more good-looking than Naruto, and the latter’s getting laid?

Most probably just his insecurities deep down, his sister will say, but it’s not really too much to ask, is it? His friends on dates, some already engaged, and all Kiba’s ever gotten in this period of unforeseen torture is a slap fest from civilian ladies he tried to hook up with, Hana owning up as the head of the Inuzuka clan, and Saturday Nights Drinking marathons with Shino. Still no ‘plus one’ to bring to class reunions.

It’s not fair – Sasuke’s not even around the village but he’s off the dating market. Kiba, who has been told by many girls around town, that despite the fangs, aggression and an Akamaru trailing him, his looks are on par with the rest of his colleagues.

Out for their morning walk before lunchtime however, Kiba is struck with luck.

On the route from the park up to the central lot stands a girl at the top of the stairway, petting a feline of some generic breed he has no interest of mingling if it weren’t for her. Her, the way her hazel eyes matched her lengthy hair, glistening at the sun’s glow.

About to take his first step towards his long pursued soul mate to be, Kiba, towed by an Akamaru by his butt, strides backwards with the dog’s pull, forceful and bitter.

“What the hell Akamaru,” he grunts, struggling. “Let go of me!”

Reluctant still, Akamaru’s hold on him intensifies as the woman runs to Kiba’s rescue, nearing them in worry. The white beast hauls his master down, causing Kiba to be dragged away right before the girl touches them. She follows in suit, chasing them, until Kiba uses force to escape, rolling on the ground to escape his own partner’s control, ending up completely adorned with dirt at the girl’s feet.

Her cat slides out of her arms, down to Kiba’s head, acknowledging him as it purrs mildly across his body then settles on the ground with a low meow.

“Are you all right?”

He looks up. Unable to hide the blush, he takes her extending hand and rubs his nose with his signature chuckle. This must be how Hinata feels around Naruto. Even just the slight touch from their skin earlier, friction results into what feels like electric shocks all throughout his body.

Kiba notes the height difference as he stands, once ignoring Akamaru’s constant barking from behind. “Never better.”

“Are you sure?” she wonders, dusting the dirt out of his hair. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he assures, now locking gazes. That genuine concern. He flushes even more.

She quietly smiles. “Your dog seems to be really mad, though.”

“He’s just jealous I get to talk to a pretty girl,” Kiba reasons out, eyeing Akamaru over his shoulder. The dog ceases his contradiction, turning his back on him then lying on his stomach now as if to say he’ll be allowing them privacy. For now.

When he realizes she’s fostering a redness around the cheeks at the comment, he bites his lips, looking ostensibly at something else instead to diminish his blush. It’s not working, he knows, but he can try.

“I mean, you know, it’s not like he wants some pretty girl to talk to as well, ‘cause he’s like, a dog and there aren’t any good dogs with a power breed around to pair him up with and Hana’s really picky when it comes to finding mates for our pals. Hana’s my older sister by the way, just in case you’re wondering and I seriously don’t know why I’m telling you this, please tell me to stop talking.”

She giggles. Everything moves in slow motion. His whole world stops from that moment on.

“I see. And you are?”

“Inuzuka Kiba.” It’s the first time he doesn’t seem sure it’s even his name but he gulps a forced smile. “I didn’t quite catch what yours was.”

“Tamaki,” she replies, picking up her cat.

Kiba calls Akamaru who, more calmly and obediently, stands by his side. “This is Akamaru. We were about to grab some lunch. Wanna come?”

 

 

 

 

“No thanks, I just ate before I came here.”

The line between platonic and amorous has never been crossed between them and he thanks every god in heaven and hell in all dimensions for that.

She’s far too difficult for him, a hurricane, unchallenged in her own talent, he’s long abandoned that thought right after their first year in the academy – and no one can blame her for it. She’s Yamanaka Ino, after all. Known to take her emotions off that open sleeve and shove it needlessly towards the person fated to receive them. And he’s always been on that end, for fifteen straight years – to arguing blankets and spare beds, to plain taijutsu sparring, to monitoring activities in missions – and the thing is he’s not one to mind so much at all.

He’s quite adaptive and she’s been in his system long before he realizes he’s already so used to it.

Shikamaru scratches the back of his neck, staring now at the sand stuck between his toes.

“Sooooo,” she starts, blinking quickly, fingers on her chin stroking an imaginary beard. “What brings you to the Flower Shop this fine day, hmm?”

Redness creeps across his face, just a faint color, and he could’ve seen this coming except there’s a marginal setback between tactics in his head with how they will be applied in the actual setting. Usually he has that covered. Now he’s completely tight-lipped.

Ino knows though, somehow, maybe a certain Chouji revealed the plan before he could. Maybe he’s just here to further confirm it, in the least, then process the request and get a discount if Ino’s mood permits.

“OH MY GOD SHIKAMARU, I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU!”

Honestly, he doesn’t think he has enough to follow through either.

Competing with the nearest bouquet of roses, Shikamaru’s entire face burns redder, while it takes five more minutes to calm Ino down, going on and on about wanting to cater to the venue as well, how there should be this kind of ornaments, and that type of champagne, this particular texture of the tablecloth. Shikamaru hates hearing details but they’re important, so he considers himself lucky Ino has a knack of patience for organizing what otherwise to him is far tedious.

He’s a simple man, and he takes pride in staying that way.

“I’m only asking for a bouquet, Ino, nothing more,” He clarifies. “But if it pleases you, you can do that too. Though, how much is this going to cost me?”

“5000 ryo,” Ino smiles matter-of-factly, as his mouth widen in disbelief. “But for old time’s sake, I’ll charge you at the lowest price offered in the market at 1000, on one condition.”

With Ino, he’s expected nothing less than a succeeding proviso.

Shikamaru groans. “You’re really troublesome, you know that?”

“Quite aware, my friend,” the blonde continues, crossing her arms with a smile. “It’s up for 1000 ryo, if you let me organize the floral arrangements on your wedding too. A package deal for both events. Cripplingly discounted, if you ask me. You like discounts, don’t you?”

 _If_ he actually gets to the point of an actual wedding, he grimly thinks. The first step is a struggle in its own level, and a perpetually supportive Ino won’t compensate for his lack of social graces towards her species. She once defined him a chivalrous chauvinist, Temari agreeing without protest.

Women are holes to perfectly curated strategies in battle and no man, smart enough to overthrow a war, can overpower the women in his life.

“That’s a generous offer. Anything else you want?”

Shikamaru shouldn’t have asked _._ Really. “Well, there is another _thing_.”

He frowns. “You said on _one_ condition.”

“I changed my mind,” Ino declares. It’s bound for more modifications in the next hour anyway.

“Let me guess. You want to design her wedding gown too?”

She’s the mind reader but he reads her better than anyone else does. Ino can’t help but laugh heartily at it.

 

 

 

 

Her laughter causes his ears to burn red for the first hour they’ve been together. He can literally count with his two hands the number of women who’s laughed at his jokes, including Ino and his mom, while overlooking the rest of his physique.

Chouji gains confidence in that, overwhelmed even.

Tossing her head back and settling once more as the laughter fades, they both fall silent. Her nails are the object of her next attention, minding the new nail polish she’s just applied, while Chouji’s attention – well, it’s always been hers anyway.

How are dates supposed to look like again?

A couple of times he witnesses Shikamaru’s dates and decides to third-wheel on them. Also in a long distance relationship, Chouji concludes that for someone with an IQ over 200, Shikamaru’s a pathetic prick, so their dates are usually filled with arguments on political matters. But sometimes, just before Chouji heads home, Shikamaru holds her hand and kisses her cheek and tells her to be safe when she leaves and she’ll punch him in the arm, then squeezes him in a half-hug, indicating a thank you or a see you soon.

He has tagged along with Ino’s dates a few times before too, and theirs is on a completely different scale. Usually sitting in with them feels like a class in session, Ino patiently providing what seems like a series of exercises, to jolt her boyfriend’s emotional capacity and social manners. It’s fun to watch, better than seeing them spar on weirder days.

Chouji’s been on dates before, not exactly his, but those count too, right? This should be easy. He can totally handle this.

“Does the order usually take this long?” A temper seethes through, balled fists ambushing the table, glasses trembling, voice undoubtedly impatient. She shoots a glare at one of the waiters, shaking in terror and running now back to the kitchen.

Chouji smiles twitchily. “They did ask if we’d be willing to wait for ten more minutes. It’s the lunch hour, after all. The place is crowded.”

“Tell me about it,” she puffs, standing up. “I’m not willing to wait any longer.”

“Do… we really… ha-have to go?” Chouji stutters, sleeve hastily grabbed by the fuming woman as they make their exit go ironically noticed. Chouji bows his head at every nosy customer, apologizing to them and most essentially the owner for such a fuss.

“What do they expect? It’s a restaurant, they’re supposed to satisfy our hunger the fastest way they can because we’re paying them.”

Exploding is an understatement. Karui trudges across the street, ahead of him and then halts eventually; an idea might have hit her as she crosses her arms in scrutiny. “Let’s go grocery shopping. Any markets nearby?”

“It’s two blocks away in front of Mrs. Taeko’s,” he nods in confusion, pointing to his left. “Why?”

She turns, gripping his wrist and dragging him. “We’ll have lunch at your place.”

“My… my place?” Chouji manages. “Do you want Ramen instead? I mean, we could drop by Ichiraku’s.”

“I fancy cooking a Kumo special cuisine. Do you mind?” Karui’s mood seems to shift, smiling now, nodding more calmly, only stopping in her track when she has to reply to his innocent questions.

He gulps. “You’re not worried about meeting my parents?”

Again, Karui shrugs coolly at what otherwise would have been an elephant in the room for some girlfriends. “From what I’m going to make, they’ll be dying to have me over every day. That is, if you Leaf villagers have the same taste as those from the Cloud.”

The same gleam shimmers from her golden amber eyes, familiar because it’s how his other friends look at their respective partners, with an undetermined belief that their hearts too beat the same rhythm.

“I’m sure we do.”

Without hesitation, he plants a kiss on her lips then moves away to realize this is the most of his courage afforded him.

He hasn’t realized that they’ve actually reached the marketplace already and it is crowd bustling in the brink of the noon rush.

Despite Karui being Karui and her disgust for the smallest of all sappy things, she flinches and turns, buries her face in her open palms. Then right after, she busies herself by picking up large white onions off the stand, tomatoes and cabbages, and even some lettuce, two pieces of carrots, hoping this distraction will ebb the redness of her cheek.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Karui stresses. “Make yourself useful and help me with these!”

 

 

 

 

 _“_ Yes, ma’am.”

He opts for a salute as she passes by, ponytail turned into a bun attached to the upper part of her head. He follows the blonde girl into what’s supposed to be the living room, empty now aside from the couch in the middle. He staggers with the two big boxes in his arms, before Ino takes the other one and sets it down.

“We don’t want anymore accidents, right?”

After the war and the disquieting emotional trials her home faced, Ino hasn’t quite welcomed any changes around, even her duties as the clan head. He understands her perfectly and choose not to speak about it until she initiates it first.

He nods. “Of course.”

“All right,” Ino, using the back of her hand, smears the blotted ink on his left cheek. A few minutes later and she’s sprawled on the floor again, lifts a carpet from one of the boxes, but having second thoughts about whether it stays in the receiving area with its intricately woven design, patterns of the past in geometric figures of brown and beige that matched the tiled wooden floor.

Sai couldn’t comprehend her stillness, so that’s when he asks, “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just _so ugly_ ,” Ino comments, running her fingers across it.

“Should we throw it out?” She rolls it again with her dainty hands, the same hands that produced the best floral arrangements in town, the same ones that held a tanto or kunai right before any delinquent’s neck.

Sai, setting aside the box, assists her in such activity – in fact, all of her other activities for three and a half years, he notes.

Her haughtiness falters, replaced merely by a scowl. “Dad didn’t want this scruffy carpet to go for sentimental reasons. It’s from Iwa, and I don’t know what was in Iwa but he bought it when they moved in.”

They, _her parents_. Whose souls are somewhere around the Yamanaka household, watching her with pride.

She sighs, trembling at the memory, but composed enough to smile. “It’s too hideous to stay in here, so I guess we’ll have to put this baby in the bedroom.”

His hand presses on her shoulder, the sharp strength she needed. “You got it.”

Sai doesn’t have that many of a stuff anyway, but Ino’s doing a complete overhaul – some of the furniture in her bedroom moves out, living room items and kitchenware all stacked awaiting further instructions to where they will be placed next.

Once all the items are in place, Sai is directed to hang some of his sepian paintings around the foyer, and the one with fruits at the dining room.

“Has the paint dried already?” Ino shouts as she tacks an enlarged portrait of her and her father atop the fireplace. It’s when she made chuunin, and he the head of the T&I unit.

“Maybe? Uh, it won’t ruin the canvas from the back, right?” he responds loudly, a little too unsure when he pulls his hand out and the yellow paint sticks to the outlines of his lacteous skin.

She giggles at his innocence. “Can you come in here for a minute?”

He does as he is told, which is why Ino finds his company the most pleasurable. He stares when Ino jumps to his side, hands tugging his head down to her height and pecking his nose. Clasping her closer, his eyes crinkles at the sudden display of affection.

When Sai attempts to return the gesture, she squeezes a hand in between their faces, lifting keys that clink in midair.

“This will be yours.”

_This must be what home feels like._

 

 

 

 

He grimaces, nerves of wits grippingly betraying him. Konoha is _not her home_ – she’ll stay in his arms for the night and leave by morning back to where her heart truly finds rest and he knows for a reason, how this threatens the possibility, the idea that they could ever actually settle.

It’s all or nothing: either she agrees or he doesn’t. Not that he’s cocky or anything, but he doubts Temari will have the audacity to reject him at this point of their relationship, though shaky because of the distance, somehow still thriving.

She’s glares at him from across the table, legs underneath crossed but ready, any minute longer and he’ll be kicked in the shins.

An eyebrow rise unbelievingly. “Meeting, eh?”

“Meeting of two minds,” Shikamaru intones, despite how the atmosphere, the very restaurant adorned by lavender fields and orchids of different kinds, fragrant jasmines in the pond beside them – proves that this is anything but a meeting.

Her shoulders stiffen, surprised that she isn’t copious on profanities at him now. Either Temari’s hostile visage tells him she’s caught on, or she’s pretending to be dense about it, or she’s upset he’s made _‘Ambassadors’ Meeting’_ an excuse. Any of which, he knows of course, she has every right to summon Kamatari and perform a beheading dance.

If she does that, nevertheless, why exactly is he treading on thin ice?

“You know how contracts are formed? They say it’s the meeting of two minds between two persons where one binds himself, with respect to the other, to give something or to render some service.”

Without warning, her foot attacks his knee, Shikamaru jerking back in response. Completely expected. Stalling isn’t exactly his forte, anyway.

“What are you yammering about? If this was actually a date, you could’ve at least said so. I would’ve worn something better than this. And a bath too, I’m beyond exhausted.” Temari fans herself with her hands, an eye roll thrown in his direction before assaulted by her own boredom. She mildly ignores him by reading the menu instead.

Godammit. How did his dad live through this?

“Right,” he scratches his back, then pulls out a bouquet of flowers from his side. “Anyway, this is for you.”

Taken aback, she analyzes the gift. Yamanaka’s handiwork. Must have cost him a lot. Her eyes squints in his direction. “So this was a date after all.”

Predominantly he would’ve backed out five minutes ago. Too late now. “Yes, well. It’s also, like I said, a meeting of two minds. Because we need to… well, I mean… we’ll be doing a contract. And contracts require two people’s consent, wherein they bind themselves to perform …obligations.”

Leaning back, Temari continues her private probing: he’s all but small shivers and untiring blushes. So adolescent of him, she almost holds in a chortle.

She offers a smirk. “I have my suspicions about what this really is, but you know, go on, I’ll be listening.”

Shikamaru frowns, a click of the tongue. “This is turning out to be a drag.”

“No, no, please,” she lifts the flowers to her nose, smells the enticing white lilies and roses. “Tell me more about this _contract_.”

She’s enjoying this, _clearly_. “You know what, forget it, it’s not like you’ll even agree to it.”

“You give up too easily,” she tells him. “Wonder why we’re still even seeing each other, it’s all going down the drain anyway because you don’t bother –”

“That’s not true,” Shikamaru then exclaims. That hit the nerve, all right. “And I’m a quitter, yeah whatever, but I’ve never even thought about quitting you. I have no excuse to. That includes this.”

He tosses a burgundy box, quite small, but Temari’s eyes grow as huge as saucers. _So this is the contract he’s talking about._

“It’s my mom’s,” Shikamaru says, finally meeting her eyes when he plucks the ring out of its pillow, the tip molded in resemblance to the Nara clan’s insignia. “Told me to give it to the woman unlucky enough to get stuck with a bum like me for the rest of her life. An ancient piece passed down for thirteen generations. Like, no pressure and all but I don’t see a better candidate. So will you –”

“Sh-shikamaru, are you –”

Temari hasn’t realized she’s been holding her breath until the words form in his mouth and she’s suddenly on the verge of choking on her unsaid words, or choking him instead, but it takes another minute for her features to soften, biting her lips to prevent the curve of a smile to reach her ears. Shikamaru’s unprecedented in his own ways, it simply leaves her speechless.

He clears his throat, when there is nothing but pure silence left in between them.

“I said, will you –”

“I heard you the first time, give me a second!” Her hand automatically shoves at his mouth, controlling, concentrating, and her words not exactly spiteful or angry. He waits until she takes his hand into hers, smiling admiringly before the answer he’s been (more or less) dreamed of for years launches him into a new level of happiness.

 

 

 

 

“Yes,” she answers, lovingly gazing at the man she’s been in love with for as long as her memory allows.

Their hands are locked in, his prosthetic one gripping much stronger than the other, but Hinata thinks it’s just the nerves going nuts, crazy impulses. The thought makes her redder than the already existent tint in her cheeks.

“Then, by the power vested in me as the Sixth Hokage of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, I now pronounce you, shinobi and wife,” Kakashi drawls, for the first time not actually holding his Icha Icha series, solemnizing the ceremony.

Almost nonchalantly, he takes a step back, both of his non-doujutsu eyes linger on the couple before him. He still can’t believe it’s taken Naruto so long to realize Hinata’s feelings, and to reciprocate them at best. Yet, he can never blame the number one knucklehead ninja of Konoha for that – after all, he’s just been living up to the name.

“You may now kiss the bride. Properly, this time,” he suggests.

Kakashi, to his dismay, has recited his lines three times in a row now for the last hour. Naruto had forgotten the rings during the first try (so he dashes away from the altar to get Konohamaru), accidentally knocks Hinata out as he kisses her in the second (“Dude, it’s not that hard to fucking kiss a girl,” Kiba yells), and just demanded they redo the third one, _just to be safe,_ to everyone else’s frustration.

“You can do it, Naruto-kun,” Hinata, sanguine, sends her unwavering support, even though Naruto knows she’s just as tired as he is by now, and the guests are all hungry.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous,” Naruto whispers, but angles his face towards her that it gradually fits, without bumping noses or other accidents, bells start ringing in the wind, clapping and exasperated cheers from the background continuously arises, louder and louder – but this time, in happiness as Naruto and Hinata begin their lives together as a married pair.

Naruto’s chakra, the one from the nine tails clearly, slips faintly, outlining a bright orange color as he lets go of the Hyuuga-now-Uzumaki. A glow everyone around is vaguely familiar with. Guess even Kurama’s thrilled.

“Naruto, you’re glowing!” Lee points out.

He grins, shrugging. “Kurama’s tears of joy.”

Once they station themselves at the reception area, no one waits for further instructions and fill up the lines at the buffet table, the pair greeted subsequently by their honored guests and favorite people.

While waiting in line, Hanabi and her father approach the couple, Naruto instantly standing straight in the presence of the Hyuuga head. Their first meeting hasn’t been quite favorable, their last one being two days ago to discuss the final preparations of the wedding. Not as exciting either.

Hiashi Hyuuga extends an arm towards Naruto to which he is expected to shake. He does. Without mistakes this time. “My, my, it has finally come to this, hasn’t it?”

Hinata tilts her head happily, as Hanabi embraces her, nuzzled underneath her older sister’s chin, with Neji’s picture squeezed in between them.

“Neji nii-san would’ve loved to see you now, though.”

“I’m sure he is watching us right now,” Hinata muses, pleased.

“So,” her little sister begins, “any plans on getting kids yet?”

 

 

 

 

He winces subtly at the thought; though reoccurring, it is often left unspoken.

It’s their last morning in Kusagakure, a few hours more and they will have to hit the road again, but something in the air demands to be discussed.

However, when she reveals what’s been bothering her, it nearly causes him to spill coffee all over himself; eyes hastily shoot up at the rosette-haired kunoichi seated across him.

“Wh-what?”

She folds her arms, already showing hints of impatience. She avoids his gaze when she answers with greater conviction, “I said I’m pregnant, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke blinks once, long and deep, succeeded by quick ones, like a child even, before obstructing the stumble of his words, “How’d you know?” He’s trying to sound calm, that slowness proves honesty and confusion, a mixture of concern and maybe even excitement, swallowing his cold exterior.

“Wasn’t feeling too good the past few nights so I went for a checkup and was told by the doctor,” Sakura responds, leaning back to reach for the paper in her bag, for said medical document. The evidence that confirms her condition, in his very hands.

Sasuke, who hasn’t even finished eating, reads the paper, his face expressing the tinge of hope that for some reason he’s reading it wrong. Hopes for a different outcome the second time he scans through it again, maybe, is what Sakura reads from his deliberate resistance to show how he truly feels about it.

She hates it, makes her feel insecure and unwanted, _their child now within her_ , somewhat unwanted.

“This is some news,” he states stoically, laying the sheet on top of the table before getting up from his seat.

Sakura’s heartbeat rushes. _He’s going to leave her_. He’s going to leave her, she just knows it. And it’s stupid to think of it that way when most girls will themselves to get pregnant so their boyfriends wouldn’t leave them. Shotgun weddings afterwards. Nonetheless, their relationship truly elicits some prying eyes (“You’re dating, right? _Right_ , teme?” Naruto sometimes asks when he catches them talking in hushed tones, and Sasuke will dismiss the topic by calling him an idiot, and Sakura will deny – a routine they have perfected in years, only now it’s become such a lie) to the point of her own questioning.

When he walks past her, it feels like the first time he’s left the Hidden Leaf, drastic change will follow; an eventual fallout, and then she will no longer matter. She turns her head to see him at the counter. How many other girls has Sasuke been with before her? Who’s struggled the same, perhaps, just as accidentally? Ten minutes have passed and she decides to charge right out of the teashop to save face, but just as she reaches the doorway, Sasuke stands before her, swiftly, a cup of warm milk in his only hand faintly shaken with the speed.

Sakura looks up and meets his onyx eyes in sheer interest before he lightly pushes the milk to her arm, causing her to warm up, her own cheeks burning the same flush. She takes it warily, looking down at her sandals.

“I don’t think the baby’s going to like coffee so you’ll have to drink this from now on,” he addresses, and then retreats to their table. “Let’s finish breakfast before heading out. Amegakure’s four days away.”

“Sasuke-kun?” she squeaks right before he takes his seat.

This time his attempt at avoiding her eyes fails. “Yes?”

“Will we -?”

He turns away from the direct sun hitting his face. A blush marries his scowl. “We can try.”

Lips slowly parting into a wider curve, Sakura finds his waist, fastening him in a tight embrace, head diving into his chest with a small squeal. Unmistakably out of joy, he notes. “We’re going to be parents! I’m going to be a mother! Can you believe it, Sasuke-kun? We’re going to be parents.”

Sasuke allows himself to stroke her hair, his hand landing at the back of her neck then travelling towards her chin, before he inclines her face towards his and carefully, thinly, dabs a kiss on her forehead.

“I know.”


End file.
